by Angie Sage
Tod, Oskar and Ferdie exchanged smiles. It really was an Enchanted evening.
The next morning was bright, sunny and full of snow. Princess Driffa led Tod, Oskar and Ferdie down into the Re-Enchantment. They were followed by a long, meandering carpet of Grula-Grulas (“carpet” being the collective noun for the creatures). They progressed through the new Sacred Chamber of the Orm, looking down into the space below where, deep beneath the newly Enchanted ice, the Orm Egg now lay.
Driffa then led them out of the Sacred Chamber of the Orm and down a spiraling tunnel, shining bright with new lapis. On the threshold of the Heart of the Ways, Driffa stopped and turned to Tod. “As PathFinder, you must lead the way,” she said. Then Snow Princess Driffa, the Most High and Bountiful, bowed her head and stood aside to let Tod pass.
“Thank you,” Tod replied, somewhat unnerved by Driffa’s new and profound respect. She stepped into the Heart of the Ways and at once twelve torches burst into flames—as they always did when a true PathFinder stepped into the Hub.
They walked into the Heart of the Ways and gasped at the sight before them. It was magnificent. The new lapis lazuli shone a blindingly brilliant blue and gold. The Hub’s traditional twelve arches, formed from rare, pale lapis and edged with thick silver bands, stood smooth and perfect, waiting for their first traveler. The arches’ inlaid gold numbers gleamed from the light of torches set in solid silver holders between each Way.
“Wow . . .” Oskar breathed. “I forgot how huge it is.”
“And beautiful,” murmured Ferdie. “The blues and gold . . . so bright.”
“Without you and your ExtraOrdinary Wizard, this would not exist,” Driffa said. “From the bottom of our hearts, I and all my people of the Eastern SnowPlains thank you.” With that, the Snow Princess led them across the shimmering Heart of the Ways toward Arch VI—the first of many on their journey home.
In the middle of the Hub they paused and looked up at the roof. Enfolded in the center of its lapis lazuli coils was a dark sphere of metal: the StarChaser pod. Its cargo now lay above it, frozen in Enchantment, the KeyStone supporting the most complex Earth Magyk ever known. The pod had, thought Tod, at last delivered its Orm Egg, albeit to a very different place than had been planned. She whispered it a sad farewell.
“But you will see it again when you return with your ExtraOrdinary Wizard,” Driffa said. “Which I hope you will do many times.”
On the threshold of Arch VI, they stopped to say their good-byes. Driffa took off her lapis ring—the one whose gray dust she had flicked over Septimus—and handed it to Tod. “Please give this to him as a token of my gratitude and respect, and as an invitation to return to our snow Enchantment whenever he so desires.”
Tod took the ring, which seemed laden with far too many messages for her liking.
And so, at last Tod, Oskar and Ferdie headed toward the first Vanishing Point on their journey home. Behind them followed their guard of honor—a carpet of Grula-Grulas.
A carpet of fifty Grula-Grulas makes for slow traveling, and it was many long hours later when they at last emerged from a Vanishing Point to see a lantern, a door with a large knocker and a sign reading: Welcome, Friend, to the Far Hub. Please knock and we will open the door.
Oskar knocked. He saw the spyhole flip open, and he pulled a face and waggled his ears. A moment later the door was flung open and Jerra was there, his face a picture of confusion. “Oskie! Tod, Ferdie! What are you doing here—” Jerra suddenly fell silent. There is something about the sudden sight of a carpet of Grula-Grulas closely packed in a small tunnel, giving polite little waves, that leads to a temporary loss of the power of speech.
The carpet flowed into the Far Hub, the Grulas sang a long and haunting song of thanks, then all but Benhira-Benhara waved their farewells and went their separate Ways, requiring Dan and Jerra to open all twelve doors of the Far Hub. When the last Grula-Grula had left, they closed the doors with a sigh of relief.
“Well, Alice,” Dan said to Tod. “I have a distinct feeling you have something to tell me.”
“I guess I do,” Tod admitted.
With help from Ferdie and Oskar—and a long song of happiness from Benhira-Benhara—Tod told their story late into the night. Dan, Jerra and Annar sat listening in rapt silence. Jerra and Annar could scarcely believe what they heard, but Dan had no such trouble. He saw the Magykal green flash in Tod’s eyes, and he understood that his daughter was capable of doing all that she described—and more.
When Tod finished she looked at Dan to see if he was angry with her for defying him. “I never did promise you not to search for the Orm Egg, Dad,” she said.
“I know,” Dan said. “And that’s been worrying me ever since, I can tell you.” He smiled. “I’m so proud of you. And your mother would be too.”
Tod twisted the snake ring on her thumb. The mention of her mother immediately made her think of Aunt Mitza, which upset her. Was it always going to be like this, she wondered—would Mitza forever intrude upon her mother’s memory?
The next morning, longing to tell Septimus the news, Tod and Benhira-Benhara Grula-Grula set off back to the Castle. Oskar and Ferdie escorted them through the Maze and then they said their good-byes.
“See you MidSummer’s Day,” Ferdie said to Tod. “At the Circle.”
“No, before then,” Oskar said. “You’re coming back for your birthday, aren’t you, Tod?”
“You bet,” Tod said.
They gave the Tribe of Three sign, and then, followed by a ten-foot-tall orange rug, Tod walked into the next arch on her journey to her other home in the Castle.
PART XII
BING’S STRING
Simon Heap sat up in bed with a start.
Lucy was sitting by the window, where there was just enough light to knit by. In a moment she had thrown the knitting to the floor and was at Simon’s side. “Si, what is it?”
“It’s gone,” Simon said. “Lu, it’s gone!”
“Gone?” she asked.
“The dust in my eye. It’s gone. Open the curtains, Lu. I want to see.”
The summer sun streamed into the room—from which the dust most certainly had not gone. But that was not the dust Simon Heap meant. He took the hand mirror that Lucy offered him and stared at his reflection. Then he looked up at Lucy, who had already seen all she needed to. Her face was wreathed in a smile. “Oh, Si,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “Oh, Si, your eye is blue again. Your lovely lapis has come back!”
Simon Heap laughed, and as he did the beam of sunlight caught the flash of lapis gold in his right eye. He got up from his bed. “I’m going to see Septimus,” he said. “I think this might be important.” Then he swayed and sat down suddenly.
“Simon Heap, you are not going anywhere,” Lucy said firmly. “You’ve had a head full of dust and you’ve hardly moved for days. Septimus can come and see you. William will go with a message.” She hurried downstairs to give their son the good news and send him off at top speed to the Wizard Tower.
Ten minutes later, a breathless and highly excited William Heap returned with his uncle in tow. As they neared the house, hurrying along with the sun glinting on the green water of the Moat at the end of Snake Slipway, Septimus allowed himself a small flicker of hope. Whatever news William Heap wanted him to hear, it was obviously good. He could certainly do with some, Septimus thought.
Suddenly William Heap’s excited shout burst into his thoughts. “It’s a ball!” Septimus looked up to see a small green object hurling itself out of the water and come bouncing up the slipway toward him.
William had thought his day could not get any better, but now it had. William—already a good fielder for the Castle under-eleven cricket team—lunged at the ball, heading for a catch. He would have easily succeeded with any other ball, but Bing neatly evaded William’s expert dives. Suddenly, William stopped and turned to his uncle. “It doesn’t want me to catch it,” he said sadly. “It wants you to.”
“It does
indeed,” Septimus said. He smiled. His nephew was turning out to have a promising feel for Magyk. Septimus allowed the Tracker ball to lightly touch him on the arm, then he scooped it into his hand. He was amazed at the sodden, soaking weight of it. It must, Septimus thought, have traveled beneath the sea to get to him. “Hello, Bing,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Is Bing its name?” William asked.
“Yes,” Septimus replied. “Bing is a Tracker ball. It has come from Tod.”
William’s eyes widened. He knew all about Tracker balls. “Daddy’s got one called Sleuth,” he said.
“Oh, yes, I know Sleuth well,” Septimus said. “Very well indeed.” He looked down at the Tracker ball sitting quietly in his palm. “Bing,” he murmured, trying to Feel any distress emanating from it. “Is Tod in trouble?”
“Bing has string!” William shouted excitedly, interrupting Septimus’s attempt to read the ball, much to his annoyance. Initial readings were always the best.
“William, please be quiet,” Septimus said sternly. “I am trying to concentrate.”
“But it does,” William insisted. “Bing has a string message. Like I play with Ferdie. Look!” He stuck his grubby, nail-bitten finger onto the stub of string sticking out from between Bing’s threads. “You have to pull this out and see what Tod says.”
Septimus gave up trying to Feel anything. To stop William jumping up and down, he pulled, and to his surprise a long piece of string came out. “See!” William said triumphantly. “Untwist the string and there will be a message from Tod!”
Septimus did as William said, and to William’s delight the string did indeed have writing on it.
“What does it say, what does it say?” William asked, hopping from foot to foot with unbearable excitement.
Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by William’s enthusiasm, Septimus gave him the piece of string. “You read it,” he said.
William perused it, frowning with concentration. He was a good reader, but he had never had to read anything special like this before. “It says . . . Mid . . . sum . . . mer Dragon Boat. Please land at Sum . . . mer Cir . . . cle. V. Imp . . . or . . . tant. Tod x.”
“May I have a look?” Septimus took the string from William and examined it closely. He felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. Tod was clearly fine when she had written it. But something about her writing told Septimus that she was not expecting to be fine for very long—that something frightening was about to happen. “Thank you, William,” he said. “You read very well indeed.” And then he asked, “What do you think Tod meant when she wrote this?”
William considered the matter. He didn’t want to scare his uncle, but he didn’t want to tell a lie. “I think she was going to do something very scary,” he said.
Septimus put his arm around his nephew’s shoulders. “That’s what I think too,” he said.
“I hope Tod’s all right,” William said in a small, worried voice.
“So do I,” Septimus said. Telling himself there was nothing he could do for Tod right now, he put the Tracker ball into his pocket and said to William, “Let’s go and see your daddy, shall we?”
William skipped ahead with Septimus following him up the path to the red front door.
At the far end of Snake Slipway, lurking by the gate that led to the Palace wood, the square figure of Mitza Draddenmora Draa watched the ExtraOrdinary Wizard go into his brother’s house.
Mitza had spent the last three days hiding in the Palace attics, sneaking down to the kitchens at night. She had enjoyed her solitary time and had made surreptitious forays to the Wizard Tower in search of her quarry, but had always been stymied by the interfering doorkeeper, who had insisted that Alice TodHunter Moon had run away. That was a lie and Mitza knew it; her step-niece was not the running-away kind. Twice Mitza had tried to get past the doorman and go in search of her, but twice she had been discovered and he had called the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, forcing her to make a run for it.
But now, at the sight of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard safely out of the way, a smile spread across Mitza’s thin lips—this was the chance she had been waiting for. She would walk right into the Wizard Tower, and this time there would be no one the meddling doorman could call. All she needed was a few minutes with Alice; after that there would be nothing anyone could do—absolutely nothing at all.
Holding the little gold vial tightly in her hand, Mitza set off up Wizard Way as fast as she could. The heaviness she was increasingly feeling on her shoulders made it hard going, but determined to seize her chance, Mitza pushed herself onward. Out of breath and sweating, she hurried beneath the Great Arch and headed toward the dauntingly steep marble steps that led up to the silver doors of the Wizard Tower. Suddenly there was a shout of “Get it, get it!” and a flash of blue shot by, narrowly missing her head. Mitza threw herself to the ground only to be very nearly trampled in a stampede of Wizards and Apprentices in close pursuit of what looked like a tiny blue dragon.
Mitza picked herself up and stared at the object of their chase. For a moment she wondered where she had seen it before, and then she realized what it was—the baby Orm. She watched it wheeling through the air, just out of reach of the grabbing hands, leading the noisy crowd onward in a frantic dance. Mitza checked that Tod was not in the group, then she turned away with an air of disdain. Let them chase the stupid creature, Mitza thought; they would soon find it was nothing but trouble.
REVENGE
As Tod and Benhira-Benhara stepped out of the Hidden arch beneath the Wizard Tower steps, a pointy-nosed streak of blue buzzed past them. Tod leaped backward, and it was only after she extricated herself from the soft orange fur that she realized what the pointy-nosed streak of blue actually was—the Ormlet. Alive.
As she stared after it, a gang of senior Apprentices came racing by in pursuit, with Newt Makken leading the pack on yet another circuit of the Wizard Tower. Tod was pleased to see the Ormlet had not died as Septimus had thought, but she was less pleased to see that it was, as ever, bringing trouble in its wake.
Ignoring the shouts and whoops of the chase, Tod and Benhira-Benhara set off toward the Wizard Tower steps. The Grula-Grula was looking forward to the quiet comforts of his room and Tod was longing to find Septimus and tell him all that had happened. However, as they reached the foot of the steps, Tod very nearly walked straight into someone she had hoped never to see again: Mitza Draddenmora Draa.
Mitza was as surprised as Tod, but she recovered herself faster. “Alice,” she gasped. “Oh, Alice, my lovely niece. Thank goodness, I’ve found you!”
Benhira-Benhara, ever considerate, bowed to Mitza and set up off the steps, discreetly leaving Tod to talk to her aunt. Not wanting to be anywhere near Mitza, Tod went to go after him, but Mitza said urgently, “Alice! Don’t go. Please.”
Mitza’s desperation to seize her chance lent a genuine urgency to her words, and Tod stopped, uncertain what to do.
Hurriedly, Mitza launched into her spiel. “Alice, I told you I did a bad thing to your mother. But the truth is, I didn’t do it. You see, I’ve been in the power of that awful sorcerer, and he has made me do and say things I now deeply regret. Ever since I got free of him I have tried to find you and set things right between us.”
Tod was shocked. This was not what she had expected to hear at all.
Sensing her success, Mitza steamrollered on. “I wish to make amends. To return what I stole.”
“Stole?” Tod asked, bewildered.
“I am ashamed to tell you that I took this from your house. It . . . it belonged to your mother. It’s the perfume she used.” Mitza held out the little gold vial. “I am so very sorry. This is yours by right.”
Tod looked at the little gold flask glinting in the sunlight. She shook her head slowly in disbelief.
Mitza, however, saw the headshake as refusal. She took her performance up a notch and forced out a couple of crocodile tears. “I’m so very, very sorry, Alice. But I do understand.” Then she turned away
as though she had given up.
The sight of Mitza’s dejected stoop, as though she had the weight of the world resting upon her shoulders, changed Tod’s mind. It seemed that Aunt Mitza’s remorse was genuine. “Wait!” she said.
Wordlessly, Mitza held out the tiny gold vial and Tod took it. The vial sat lightly in her palm, its gold shining softly. Tod knew how scents brought back memories, and she longed to feel that her mother was beside her once again. The vial’s silver stopper was sealed with a black film of wax; Tod twisted it and felt the seal snap. She was about to take out the stopper when she was aware of two things happening at once. One was Aunt Mitza stepping backward fast. The other was a sudden flash of blue, a close-up view of pink, rubbery lips, the chickeny smell of Ormlet breath and the unopened vial being delicately lifted from her grasp.
There was a scream from Mitza: “No, no! Not my vial! No!”
But the Ormlet was up and away, the gold vial glinting between its lips, with Mitza after it in hot pursuit—and following close on her heels, the Apprentice rabble.
Bemused, Tod sat at the foot of the steps, watching the Ormlet fly over the courtyard wall and the hue and cry chase it out through the Great Arch.
As a welcome silence descended in the courtyard, Mitza’s shout echoed in Tod’s ears: my vial. Tod suddenly understood what had happened—the Ormlet had saved her life.
In the Wizard Tower, Tod discovered that Septimus had been called away by William Heap. She sat down on the visitors’ bench outside the shiny orange door to await his return, listening to the sound of loud, regular Grula-Grula snores.
Tod was glad of time to think. There was now no doubt in her mind about what was in the little gold vial. She shuddered to think about what would have happened had the Ormlet not snatched it from her. Tod sat looking at the silver-and-gold double-snake ring that had once been her mother’s and felt overcome with anger. Her mother hadn’t died of some horrible disease that no one could do anything about. It was cold, cowardly murder. If it hadn’t been for Mitza, her mother would still be alive.
